I was working with Moushumi Chatterjee, who had reduced her workload, so I was free. It was around that time that Mukesh Bhatt called me to work on Other Smita. We worked together on films like Sutradhaar and Aakhir Kyun. Smita and her mother really liked my work. What do I say about her? She was an angel. She was so caring and treated me like family. Unlike today, there was no discrimination. I was very much a part of her family.

I remember she was pregnant and shooting for Waaris in Nashik. It used to be so hot in those days. We took a trip to Shirdi, where she had a bath and then lay down on the floor with her hair still wet. I yelled at her, saying she couldn’t do that in her condition, and made her dry her hair. 

I had a parlour in those days, and it used to remain closed on Mondays. She would come over, and I would make Maharashtrian dishes like varan bhaat and potato bhaji. She loved spicy food, but when she got pregnant, I wouldn’t let her eat too much of it. After a hearty meal, she would go into the last room, switch on the AC and fall asleep. She had no nakhras or anything starry about her, despite being such a great artiste. When I hear stories about how stars treat their hairdressers today, I feel so fortunate to have worked with someone like Smita. I would call her Mityama.

Once, she left an envelope containing money for me, and I fired her, saying that our relationship was beyond all that. She was insistent and wouldn’t hear of it. I remember accompanying her to an Asha Bhosle show in Muscat. We got our visas on arrival. I recall Amjad Khan not getting his visa and having to return home.

Since she couldn’t shop on the streets because of the crowds that would gather around her, I remember her sending the organiser with me in the car and asking him to take me shopping. She was that concerned about us. I remember buying something from the Georgette 644 brand and also a gold coin. In those days, it was difficult to bring a gold coin through customs. 

Mityama went out of her way to do things for us. She was shooting for a Bengali film in Kolkata, which must have been Akaler Sandhane or Debshishu. I remember a silly co-star who was shooting with her reading her palm and telling her that she wouldn’t live long. In the car, she remarked on how weird he was and said there was no need for him to give her that information.

She once told me at night that she had completed her seventh month of pregnancy. It was 14 September. I used to live in MIG Colony, so I organised a godh bharai ceremony for her at my sister’s house. She lived in Artek Apartments, which was nearby. Many of my friends came. I recall Raj Babbar and his friend Asghar Ali being there, too. Raj and Smita were truly in love. Maa didn’t approve of their relationship because he was a married man. 

I never took my two daughters to any shoot. However, when we were shooting for B. Subhash’s Dance Dance, Smita asked me to bring my children along. As luck would have it, my grandmother passed away. My husband called Smita and informed her. She quietly sent me and my children home with her driver, Tiwari, saying, ‘Go home. I’ll manage the shoot here.’ She even walked during the Hope 86 strike while heavily pregnant. It was such a long walk. Halfway through, I forcibly bundled her into the car and took her home.

I was with her throughout her delivery and remember going to the hospital. It wasn’t an easy delivery. I recall them giving her an injection in her spine. I wasn’t happy with the overall treatment. After the baby was born, she was discharged on the seventh day. Her feet were swollen, but she disregarded it. I have two daughters, so she told me, ‘Now Prateik is your son.’ She had decided on her child’s name long before he was born.

I came home and was cleaning my shelves when her cousin called to tell me that Smita wasn’t feeling well. I rushed back to her house. She was reluctant to go to the hospital because Prateik was so small. I told her I would take care of him, and that reassured her enough to go. I was at the hospital when she passed away. Raj sent me home to inform Maa and everyone else. I called her sister Anita, who said she would come. Deepak Sawant and I dressed her up like a bride. It was one of the most heart-rending and depressing moments of my life.

I later left for Canada to be with my two daughters. Whenever I came to India in January, I would meet Maa and Prateik. I met him regularly as a child and would give him a huge chocolate. He was very loving. Of late, though, he hasn’t been in touch.

Smita passed away in 1986. My husband passed away in 1988. If my Mityama were alive, I wouldn’t have felt his loss so deeply. She would have taken care of me.

Also Read: “I Fell in Love With Her Simplicity, Honesty, and Enormous Talent”: Gulshan Grover on Smita Patil

Pink is frequently misunderstood. Relegated by the unimaginative to saccharine pastels or demure wedding guest tropes, it reveals an entirely different character when handled with couture discipline. On the final day of Navratri, the hue sheds all girlish restraint, emerging instead as shocking fuchsia, crystalline blush, gilded rosewood, and metallic raspberry.

It is decadent, charged with life, and theatrical. When approached with an editorial eye, pink possesses the rare power to oscillate between Mughal court poetry and razor-sharp modern discotheque glamour. The secret lies in textural subversion: offsetting liquid paillettes with clean platinum diamonds, or anchoring intense hot magenta against the sovereign shock of raw emeralds. Here is how cinema’s sharpest dressers deliver an unforgettable masterclass for the grand finale.

Saturated Drama and High-Contrast Heirlooms

Ananya Panday opens the final chapter with pure, unapologetic volume, stepping out onto moonlit lawns in a rich fuchsia-pink raw silk lehenga. The flared skirt, bordered by sweeping archways of mirror shards and antique gold bullion, finds its match in a plunge sweetheart choli and an airy silk dupatta pinned neatly behind the shoulders. 

What turns this from a classic festive ensemble into a high-fashion triumph is her choice of ornamentation. Rather than safe rubies or tone-on-tone stones, Ananya layers a snug uncut polki choker with a magnificent longline sautoir centred around an enormous, hexagonal carved Russian emerald pendant. The sudden strike of deep green against electric pink is pure aristocratic drama. An architectural snatched bun, softly smudged kohl, warm peachy skin, and towering metallic gold platform heels ensure the silhouette commands every inch of the grounds. 

Kareena Kapoor Khan reminds us that high glamour often whispers before it blinds, drifting across the evening in a signature baby-pink ombré sequined saree. The micro-paillettes shift effortlessly from frosty blush to translucent rose, pooling around her frame like liquid spun sugar. Paired with a minimal sleeveless bralette that keeps the decolletage bare, the look relies entirely on light and form. Kareena skips neckwear altogether, choosing sculptural diamond cluster drops and a clean cocktail ring on her hand. An immaculate, parted low bun, soft smoky lilac eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and soaring champagne slingbacks make this the gold standard for understated red-carpet opulence. 

Shraddha Kapoor delivers a delicate, poetic counterpoint in this lavender-tinted blush anarkali. The floor-length cotton-silk silhouette is grounded by a crinkled tissue gold gota border that catches the sunlight with soft, rustic warmth. A gossamer dupatta dusted with golden stars drapes languidly across her elbows, introducing movement to the tailored bodice. Shraddha keeps the styling charmingly unforced, framing her face with vintage gold chaandbalis, natural brushed hair tumbling past her shoulders, glowing glass skin, and metallic Kolhapuri flats. Slip an embroidered antique potli over the wrist to complete this idyllic daylight vision. 

Kriti Sanon reinterprets festive silhouettes through sheer, fairytale tailoring in this custom baby-pink creation. The ensemble pairs a sheer tulle peplum kurta, complete with romantic puffed sleeves and delicate pearl drop fringe along the cuffs, over a floor-grazing ruffled sharara skirt. Her plunge neckline is anchored by a brilliant bib of white pavé diamonds, echoed by a singular pearl maang tikka resting along the parting of her hair. Half-up romantic waves, a flush of rosy cream blush across the cheeks, and a frosted pink lip lacquer tie the monochromatic fantasy together with effortless sweetness. 

Kinetic Tailoring and Regal Silk Traditions

Alia Bhatt brings a daring, silhouette-shifting energy to the festivities in this blush-and-candy pink dhoti suit. The sleeveless, high-low tunic is cut with a sharp V-neckline and embellished with antique gold marodi needlework that tapers neatly at the waist before cascading over pleated tulip trousers. Draped casually with a sheer crushed silk dupatta, the outfit is an exercise in relaxed high-society tailoring. Alia styles the ensemble with oversized kundan and enamel chaandbalis, leaving her neck bare to balance the high armholes. With a half-twisted bohemian hairstyle, softly rimmed kohl eyes, a delicate bindi, and metallic gold platform wedges, she crafts a look that moves effortlessly from midday ceremonies to evening soirees. 

Janhvi Kapoor turns to classical South Indian heritage, stepping into the frame in an exquisite half-saree ensemble crafted from dusty-rose tissue silk. The pleated skirt and matching dhavani are trimmed with opulent gold brocade borders, worn over a densely embroidered short-sleeved choli. She cinches the drape at the waist with an ornate gold kamarbandh, an architectural touch that accentuates her form. Janhvi accessorises with antique temple gold jhumkas and stacked kadas, finishing the styling with a traditional braid woven with fresh white blossoms, dewy sunlit skin, and a muted rose stain on the lips. It is statuesque, reverent, and impossible to overlook. 

Khushi Kapoor closes the spectacular nine-night journey with high-octane Gen-Z drama in a blinding hot-magenta sequin saree. The liquid drape is paired with an audacious off-the-shoulder corset blouse featuring elongated fitted sleeves, exposing a sculpted expanse of collarbone. Rather than traditional polki, Khushi leans into icy red-carpet modernism with a snug, brilliant-cut diamond tennis choker and matching diamond studs. Her jet-black hair is swept cleanly behind her shoulders, framing razor-sharp cat-eye liner, sculpted bronzed cheekbones, and a velvet mauve lip. Concealed platform stilettos carry the dazzling drape to the floor, leaving an unforgettable trail of brilliance in her wake. 

As the final chants fade and the night sky claims the last celebration, pink stands as the ultimate triumph of the season. It defies monotony, rejects the safe boundaries of traditional palettes, and proves that true festive elegance lives in bold, fearless contrasts. Whether draped in classical gold tissue or rendered in molten magenta crystals, wear it with sovereign composure, let your gemstones slice cleanly through the glow, and own the final night with absolute conviction.

Also Read: The Emerald Crown: Navratri’s Ninth Dusk in Peacock Green